We and Him
by Val-Creative
Summary: Oh boy, they've been practicing. /Endverse!Destiel. Voyeur!Dean. 5x04 coda. Oneshot.


{—•—•—•—}

Dean tried gay porn once. Not a dare he couldn't somehow back out of; it hadn't been a special request from a woman he had been with at some time.

_Selfishly_, _inequitably_ (he just learned this word this morning, ha-_ha_! Who says he can't use big words in his own thoughts?) — it turned out to have been his own staggeringly persistent curiosity. But, the porn didn't do anything for him at the time. There _may_ have been a twitch down there.

Maybe he didn't quite get the appeal. Maybe watching two sweaty guys going at it like jackrabbits wasn't all that it was cracked up to be.

Okay, right now, there were a lot of _maybes_ in his vocabulary — but Dean couldn't excuse his decision to stay put behind the steel rack instead of crawling out the window behind him. To keep his eyes glued to the lone scene in front of him as his future self clenched his grim-crusted fingers underneath Cas' dark, hair-prickled jaw, pinching his mouth open with his fingertips and _deep-throating_ him with the length of his tongue. The low, hypnotic noises coming from both of them and how Cas' leg steadied his future hip with natural ease—…

That wasn't… — _oh boy_, they've been practicing.

His double's hands flattened to the cabin wall, trapping the willing body pushed up and humping and rubbing against his. Rustling, dirtied fabric and clinking metal of their belts colliding. Dean silently watched himself visible wince into the lip-numbing kiss, muttering about the nasty taste between Cas' teeth of what he smoked an hour ago, along with the mingled odor of a stranger's come not washed out of his beard, earning him a not-so-playful goose on his left asscheek.

"That's the most I've heard you talk during a session," Cas told him, the syllables coming out in Latin, and he laughs; a soft rumble. It _enchants_ because Dean was sure as hell he's never seen Cas show a goddamn smile as wide enough to stretch his mouth, let alone _laugh_ like he couldn't give two shits about the world and all the evil roiling on its surface.

The once-angel still laughed as his future self used his right hand to choke him lightly, olive green eyes _sharp_. "Shut up," he commanded, _softer_ than Cas' laugh but no less severe. He unzipped himself with his free hand, and then jerking Cas back, finally letting go of his throat as the other man panted to himself.

Hands yanked around his double's jacket lapels, dusty and spotted with dime-sized blots of _crusted_ blood and weather-beaten, forcing him on his toes. Their lips grazed barely.

"We're going to die tomorrow," Cas said with a sort of finality, switching into his companion's language. His bright blue eyes closely, _somberly_ gazing into the his stoic expression.

Like Cas knew something either version of Dean didn't.

"…We're _all_ gonna die."

Despite the friggin' weight of an erection in his jeans, Dean couldn't help but feel his insides churn at that kind of _hopelessness_, spoken so _agreeably_ from his double. Was this the person he was supposed to become when these years came around? Reaching the point of _broken_ in his life where no one's lives really mattered?

"Doesn't mean we're not gonna fight with everything we've got," his future self muttered after a pause, eyes narrowing fiercely. "I'll _plug_ that son of a bitch, if it's the last thing I do."

Cas' face perked into a faintly toothy smirk. Dean's insides began to slow from their violent churn.

"Whatever you say, fearless leader." His double groaned his approval, swearing under his breath as Cas' hands lowered, cupping and stroking with all intentions of _teasing_ over the bulge of underwear. "Whatever I can do to help…" It hung like a _promise_ as he knelt down, unstrapping the thigh holster to his future self's leg, and placed his open mouth to the moist cotton with a pleasant moan, wetting it further with saliva as Cas _sucked_ loudly, and Dean's squatting legs weren't any stronger as his double's standing and quivering.

As much as his erection cued him that this was possibly… sorta… _really_ awesome, Dean didn't think he was one hundred percent ready for the rest of the NC-17 spoilers.

Some things were better to learn at your own pace.

Like real life gay porn.

{—•—•—•—}

Dean thought he was not only untrustworthy, but also a little bit of an idiot.

"He" meaning… _himself_.

(Did his younger version honestly not expect to remember this moment down the road? Christ.)

His hands grasped around the tops of Cas' shoulders, signaling him to straighten up.

"I remembered Past You had been in here," the once-angel snickered, helping Dean to shed the dusty, ruined cargo jacket. "I sent him in here to grab canned supplies."

An eyebrow raise. "What the hell are you talkin' about?" Dean asked, the skepticism evident in his tone. "We ran out about three hours ago."

"…"

"…"

"…_exactly_."

"Did-…?" Dean's dirtied fingers tightened, hitching up the rough-knit of Cas' patched, rumpled-ugly blue shirt. A devious-sounding snicker. "Wait… you set this up, you piece of shit?" he added, trying to not sound amused. _Damn it_, he was failing. The milky skin on the backs of Cas' arms, the width of his muscular shoulders shone under the weak lamps above him.

To contrast the sight — and he'll _never_ forget the evening Cas nearly bled out because of it, dazed and blacking out and coming back to with whimpers on his stomach as the camp's only tenant that came close to "doctor" (more like _a_ _veterinarian's assistant_) spent hours complaining about the lack of resources but stitching him back up regardless, and it had been the only time Cas wanted to be willingly sober — the thick, roping scars, miles and miles of them, the only evidence left of intricate wounds.

They covered planes of _human _tendon and flesh, all because no one had been prepared for the appearance of a _demon_, not with all the Croats lurking. Not that it stood even a moment's chance in Dean Winchester's presence. One of Dean's hands followed the path, a scar from Cas' shoulder blade, fingers tracing the jagged arch of a _wing_.

"How else would this have happened?" Cas smirked like nothing was amiss, shoving Dean's hand away, and re-wrapping a leg around his companion's waist.

Ha-_ha_.

Maybe he always had been a little bit of an idiot.

{—•—•—•—}

* * *

_SPN Kink Meme Prompt:_

_"Request: 2014!Dean/2014!Cas, present Dean, voyeurism_

_While visiting the future, Dean somehow stumbles upon future!Dean and Cas getting it on. He likes it and decides to watch."_


End file.
